A Digital Trip and Fall
by SydneyKate
Summary: Post CTos2. An anon dealer sells info to Blume as a digital trip file. Aiden intercepts to protect his own interests, but the data falls into the wrong hands and Aiden is left juggling a loose end and his own morals. Blume's on the hunt, fixers are closing in, ghosts are coming out of the woodwork, and his loose end has him frayed.
1. A Trip to Chicago

My flight had been a long, seven hours of space invasion and over salted pretzels. I hated heights; the very idea of flying, always had-years of breaking my younger brother's model airplanes were a testament to this. But finally, the plane touched down in Chicago and I survived all the elbows in my space and the sodium overdose. The fasten seatbelt light went off and I half heartedly listened to the white noise of chatter while reflecting on the first lay over in Philadelphia. It was three hours ago that I had experienced what only canned sardines can relate to-everyone trying to fit in the aisle and out the door all at once. Having this experience under my belt only seemed to drudge up dread for the entire second leg of the flight. All of those breathing tricks and happy place techniques couldn't deter my mind from remembering the battle of disembarkment.  
I let out a breath I'd been unknowingly holding. "Made it." I had made it; in one piece, alive, and fairly well. Perhaps I'd get used to airplanes? ...no. I would not. The p.a. beeped and the captain enthusiastically thanked his passengers for flying with United Aeroway, though I doubted anyone listened. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the door, people were rustling bags and gathering their things. He had barely enough time to hang up the Mic and then the rush began - everyone wanted out. I wanted out too-the indents on the arms of my seat were proof enough, but I decided to be smarter this time. I patiently sat in my seat until the murmuring crowd had pushed and tripped themselves out of the awkwardly shaped doorway. Once clear, I got up casually and grabbed my carry-on from overhead and wheeled it down the narrow aisle. In a timely fashion; immediately, I turned on my cell phone and stared at the small screen powering up-ignoring the flight crews' cheery smiles as much as humanly possible.  
I passed through the tarmac and entered the airport, reality and a plethora of advertisements bombarded me. Giant CTos signs about family safety, the smell of coffee, some wkz news feed filled the spaces between inaudible conversations. Fluorescent lights washed out any colour variance and I found it hard to concentrate and stay on task under them. I was in Chicago, this was absolute, but this wasn't a vacation or a family reunion. Maybe you could stretch the truth and call it a family reunion, but it was far from a bbq social. My brother had been sick for quite some time, I guess-I remember him always having a chest cold and a cough, but at some point he had found out it was something else and kept it to himself. The doctor's had thought it was chronic pneumonia and bronchitis when he was a teenager, but then years later it made itself out to be lung cancer-terminal. He was my little brother, and as children we were great friends-we shared everything. But not this. I hadn't spoke to him in four years. I never knew he was on borrowed time until two days ago, but only because he had died. The consensus of my family lingered somewhere between my having known all this time and my brother and I being on bad terms. I wanted to be spiteful and say I didn't care what they thought, but knowing I'd be in a room with all of them, in a strained silence, I found that I felt rather distraught over their lack if trust.

"Ma'am? Ma'am?" the voice was polite, but annoyance could be heard under it's shiny surface.

"Yes?" I looked up, broken from my train of thought. The owner of the voice was a petite blonde who looked like she belonged in the south pinned up on every 14-year-old's wall.

"If you want to board, you'll have to wait in line." She squeaked with southern mannerism. Her eyes widened and she drew her eyes from me over to where I'd presume the line ended, if and when I'd look. So I waited a moment, to ensure when I did look that it was my own idea and not hers, looked back just to see-yep, the end of the line.

"Sorry," I felt the red wash over me "I just got off a plane, I'm little..."

"Hun, your in an airport." She sucked her teeth and it was then I'd realized she was being a bitch.  
"Yeah, I'm aware," I took a step out of line and went up an escalator. I'd deal with southern belle Barbie if it meant I could get on that plane and leave. I sighed at the thought; how desperately I wanted to get out of Chicago-the tourist in me was nowhere to be found. It was the constant worry I'd have to face everyone's glare when I got to the wake. Worse yet was that one of those glares would not be my brother's. He may have been younger, but he'd always been taller. I hid behind him whenever things looked like they'd be bad and he'd quietly assure me they'd be fine. He wasn't here to hide behind, and even if he had been, I wouldn't believe him if he told me everything was going to be alright.

Being sure to pay close attention and pocketing my phone, I found my way over to the Hartz car rental line. Rentals were my last choice, but since my family and I were practically estranged, my pride couldn't risk asking for a ride and being turned down. I may have had pity taken upon me by my own mother, but I didn't want be to be trapped. I didn't want to be stuck at a wake full of grieving strangers trying to illicit some emotional response from me. I wanted to...even I didn't know what I wanted.

"Ma'am? Ma'am?" a woman's voice called out. I snapped out of my pity party and paused in horror of this conversation ending up like the last one that began with "ma'am".

I was spared spiraling into exreme deja vu and ended up with an brown boring economy car-it was one of those Toyeti Celetics, "economy sports car" that looked like they may have almost been awesome if not for the fact you knew the reputation of Toyeti and nothing they made was truly sporty...and it was brown. "Dump truck," I said to the car, "I'm going to call you Dump truck, and we are going to be great friends." There was that inevitable pang of loneliness as soon as I realized I'd been speaking to the car. "This-this is what it's come down to." My disdain for driving in cities with this car was going to be my only intelligent conversation and I damn well knew it. I put a hold on that thought-why was I convinced I wasn't going to incur the wrath of the entire Tristatt family, extended family, friends, neighbors, and strangers at this thing? Maybe things would be fine? Maybe I wouldn't have to talk to the car? Maybe? Then again, my step father had instant messaged me that he never liked me anyways...Maybe I'd just avoid talking to him. I grasped the keys firmly in my hand and walked over to the car out in the garage.  
By the time I found my way out of the concrete parking garage, it was almost 3PM and the sun was on the decline. Even though I was in a car I could feel the cold autumn air filter in and start to work on chilling my bones. I found it odd as I'd imagined Chicago would be warmer than Boston. But the sun set at the same time and the air was just as unpleasant. I stared back at the digital display- one and a half hours until showtime. How far was this Parker Square district, anyway? I flipped on the radio to the station it had already been on, woke up my phone and entered the address I was supposed to meet my mother and stepfather at. The radio chimed and a "special news update" followed. It was something about hacking-maybe some axe wielding maniac, and gang related stuff. Nothing that was too concerning to me. I wasn't here for the drama of the city, just here to do my thing and get out. I glanced back down at my phone as the map app kicked on-it claimed twenty minutes. Was relieved it wasn't going to be that long of a ride-the wake wasn't until 4:30PM. I shut off the radio, an ad taking the place of the news update about security was annoying and warranted silence. Silence would be a great start.

About 6 minutes into the drive things seemed fine; no-one hit me and I didn't hit them. The district I was in was typical, agitating city stop-and-go traffic, but the architecture of the tall buildings and the "art" in the parks took mind off the constant braking. Someone beeped behind me and I noticed the light had turned green; maybe architecture was taking my mind off traffic a bit too much. I drove through the intersection and hit... another light. I glanced down at my phone, wondering if the app could account for traffic. It couldn't. In fact, the map app hadn't updated my position. WTF? I exited the map app and reopened it, hoping that something would refresh or reload-but nothing. I noticed my cell signal was non-existent. I had to either go straight or go left-and the only other thing I relied on my phone to do aside, from making calls, was not working. The light had turned green and I opted to take a left across a long bridge.

I quickly got the sense I hadn't taken the right turn. Once I drove over the long bridge the houses became more leaning towards the condemned side of the spectrum. My brother wouldn't live here-he had standards. I glanced down at my phone, waiting for it to rescue me from uncertainty. No signal. I looked back up at the street and the neighborhood donned people sitting on their front porches, pedestrians in hoodies with pants practically down to their knees, and a lot of young girls out on every corner. Call it profiling, but I locked my doors and told myself I wouldn't be making any stops-not if I could help it. Though, as if on cue, the light that I was approaching changed-so much for not stopping. I'm a law abiding citizen, so I stopped and I waited for the world to end or an explosion to go off-nothing of the sort happened. The light turned green and I reluctantly let go of the breath I'd been holding. I put my foot on the gas pedal, but before I could press it and the clutch down, all of the locks popped up in one hollow "thunk". I froze-maybe I accidently unlocked it with my elbow? Even I knew it was denial. I turned to look at the buttons on the side of the door and found a tall man in a brown coat looming by my window. I raced to hit the lock button but he pulled the door open before I could reach it.

"Out," was all he said.

I stared blankly, not processing the situation, "What?"

"Out, now." He reached in and grabbed me by the arm and I grabbed my e-brake handle to keep me inside the car.

Damn it Dump truck, apparently you weren't shitty enough to not get yourself stolen. "No." My eyes went wide; I didn't think that one through. He put something in my face and I stared passed it, trying to see him, until I realized what it was-a gun, "shit."

"Get the fuck out." His eyes narrowed and that's all I could tell of his expression as the rest was hidden behind some sort of ski-mask or- He tightened his grip ands pulled my arm harder and pressed the barrel of the gun into my forehead. I wouldn't say I cried, but I definitely could feel tears starting to form over my vision.

"I'm not getting out, I'm not staying here." I cried out with conviction, which was odd because inside I was asking myself what the hell was wrong with me. What was wrong with me was that I had wake I needed to get to, I was l Iost in the projects, my family hated me, I hated my car...no more.

The sound of something slamming and tires screeching echoed out in the distance and the would be car-jacker looked up and sighed angrily. He leaned in, letting go of my arm, and shoved me by my shoulder in one harsh motion so that I ended up on my back in the passenger seat. With the gun still in hand he got in, slammed the door and stomped on the gas.

This wasn't quite what I had in mind when I refused to leave my car, I was more leaning towards him leaving me and my rental alone. He put the gun away and pulled out his phone. He looked up at the road for a second, glanced back down and then turned the wheel so hard that the back tires slid out and the car had turned sharply. Make no mistake, there were other cars on this road and he swirved around them as he regained his speed down the highway. I must have made a noise or it could have been the way I'd been holding onto my door because he glanced over quickly and said "seatbelt?" This guy was going to get me killed. We were quickly approaching the city, again, and all the cars were beginning to blur together. A jerk of the wheel broke me from my thoughts. I broke my starting contest with traffic and he jerked the wheel again-his eyes were down on his phone and with a quick glance back on the road he jerked the wheel to correct the vehicle veering off. This is going to get me killed-I began to think the shady neighborhood was perhaps the better choice.

"Still standing by your decision?" It was the second thing since he'd gotten in the car that sounded sarcastic.  
I opened my mouth to say something, it was clear he wasn't going to shoot me-he'd had done it already, and though I was terrified, I wasn't going to be his amusement. Before I got a word out the car dove through 3 landed of traffic to an off ramp. My head slammed into the window and my hand quickly rose up to put pressure on where it throbbed. I grabbed my head and put pressure on where it throbbed, "ah, fuck," l whimpered and pressed my body to the side of the door.

I looked up at him again-his eyes were glancing quickly between the phone to the road, faster than before. My eyes flickered down to his gun, halfway in his pants with the hilt exposed because his coat didn't fall back over it. He was still looking at the road, still driving fast, and still swerving through traffic. I bit my lip and inched my hand to the center console. "Don't even think about it," he warned, his tone still unchanged. Shit, how did he know?

"Can I get out now?" feeling that my life was in more danger in the car than out.

"It's a little late to change your mind," He looked up at the rearview mirror and then an explosion shook underneath the car and sent the back of it up before the tires met the pavement again and bounced. The metal frame of the car groaned for a moment and I turned around in my seat to see a car caught in a pressure burst of steam out if a crater in the road and slammed less gracefully than Dumptruck had.

"What the?" I was starting to get into hysterics now, but I watched the scene as we sped away and two black cars muscled their way around the pit and gained speed. The car-jacker must have seen the cars too because our car picked up speed and he pulled me down into my seat. "Holy shit! Is this a car chase? Did you steal my car and kidnap me because you're being chased?" I watched the cars gain in the side mirrors.

"Kidnap?" He was surprisingly calm despite the situation but he choked on the word, "I tried really hard not to "kidnap" you..." He pulled up the e-brake and the car did a hairpin turn before he pressed on the gas and the car was off again in a new direction. I must have been have upped my panic attack because he put his phone on his knee, reached over me, and pulled my seatbelt over and buckled it-straining to keep his eye line over the dashboard. l started at him, waiting to hear if this was a car chase. He grabbed his phone and looked over at me staring wide-eyed at him. "I'll try and get you out of this in one piece-sound good?"

I didn't answer, it seemed rhetorical, and I felt like my answer would be obvious. I returned my eyes to the road ahead and it was then I noticed we were barreling towards an intersection- our light was red. "Hey?" I questioned, hoping he'd noticed. But he ignored me and gripped his phone. He pressed harder on the gas and I could hear the engine strain to fulfill his demands. "The light." Maybe it wasn't obvious to him. He was clearly a distracted driver. My breathing picked up, the light hadn't changed and not did our direction. We were about ten yards from the intersection when the lights went green. There were still cars in the intersection but we somehow miraculously managed to weave through. I looked back at my side mirror and the sound of metal impacting metal rang out. There was a pile up in the intersection. This guy was going to get me killed.  
"So, if this car chase is done..."

"Almost." He turned off the day-time running lights and we turned between two tall brick buildings. The car used for a moment and then the engine shut off.

"What are we doing?" I looked down at his gun again. Were we in an alley because this was the end of the line for me? He put his phone on his knee again and slouched down in his seat. He didn't make eye contact or say anything but his breaths were heavy and slow. "Look, I just want to go." I put my hand on the door handle and he raced to grab my arm and pull it to the centre of the car.

"Just wait. You'll be ok." He looked at the rear view mirror and my eyes drifted up that way as well. A black car crept on the street, hesitantly passing the alley way. It's brakes made a high pitched squeak as it slowed and turned to come down this way. My heart thumped loudly in my ears. This guy was out if his mind and if he was running from these guys, how bad were they? I glanced down at his phone, still resting on his knees. My phone had gotten lost in the shuffle-probably somewhere on the floor. I'd need his to call for help. I looked at him still looking in the mirror and I looked in the mirror, the car had stopped a few yards from ours. The car-jackers gripped had loosened on my arm. It was now or never. I tested my right hand on the handle and in one smooth movement opened the door, pulled my hand from his grasp and grabbed his phone. I slid it between the car and the brick wall and ran to the front of the car. The doors opened from the car behind my own and three men stepped out, guns clearly in hand, and hustled towards my car and me. "Fuck."

"It's not him." One of the guys said.

"Wrong car?" Another questioned.

"Where the fuck is he?" This question was aimed at me.

I was unsure what to do. I got the very distinct feeling was going to be killed one way it the other. I quietly watched as two of the men crept along side the driver's side of my car.

"I asked you a fucking question." He was making his way towards me. It was all he got out before the driver's side door opened and the car-jacker stepped out and swung open a collapsible baton. He bashed the guys face in and charged forward to spin the other guy around. He grabbed the other guy's forehead, tilted his head back, dropped the baton, grabbed the gun and shot him in the back of the head.  
I felt my knees buckle. I couldn't believe I decided to take this guys phone. Luckily, the third guy from the car opened fire-never did I think I'd find that lucky, and the car-jacker ducked down out if sight. I took this opportunity to run-and I did, out of the other side of the alley and into a crowd of pedestrians.

01000111011010010111011001100101011011010110010101110100011010000110010101110011011011110111010101101110011001000111010001101111011100110110010101100101

It's been a long time. I think the only difference is that I can't outwardly acknowledge that I put Chan on everyone's name-I started here at 13, I'm 28 now. I published a few creative non-fics, but not a big deal. Not one step closer to being terribly decisive.

There will be typos...I do this on my phone and my attention span is rofl copter madness. So, yeah.


	2. A Trip on the L

Chapter 2; A Trip on the L,,,,

Things felt surreal while I walked down the sidewalk embedded in a group of strangers. With so many things pulsating across my mind, it took the vibrations of the phone I'd taken to be the proverbial pinch. Snapping back to reality, I held the cell at waist height, looked at the display, and did a double take when my phone number lit up across the bottom of the screen. I slid the "answer" bar, "Hello?"

"You have something of mine." He was nonchalant.

"I know..." I was unsure if his tone meant everything was ok, but seeing as how he just killed someone, I was unsure if anything was ok, "I needed a phone, I couldn't find mine."

"I did. Would you like it?" I could hear in his voice that he was walking, something in the way he breathed.

I turned around quickly and scanned the crowd for, him-it was just a sea of strange faces. I stopped with my herd on the sidewalk and waited for the pedestrian light to turn, "Hello," he'd been quiet.

"Can't see me?"

I looked again and scanned the crowd, I even checked across the street to my right-but there was no-one quite as tall as I was sure he'd been, and no one was looking at me. "Where are you?" I didn't want to ask because didn't want to know, but I was pretty sure there'd be repercussions for taking the car-jacker's phone and I was thinking one if those repercussions would involve what happened to those guys from the alley.

I turned around in one last effort to spot him when I noticed a tall man donning a black hat-eyes locked on me and a phone, my phone likely, pressed to his ear and walking my way. I felt every hair on the back of neck stand up and my chest tightened as he slid between people, "Are you mad at me?"

"You didn't exactly follow anything I said, but I wouldn't say mad,"he paused his dry sarcasm and I looked ahead to notice the pedestrian light had turned and everyone was crossing, "stay put."

Being rid of the phone would be a relief, it didn't seem like I'd have a moment to myself to call for help and I had a nagging suspicion that there was more to him wanting his phone beyond personal property. I took a step into the street and looked back to watch his pace quicken. I had witnessed him kill one, possibly two guys, steel my car, and brake every traffic law I could name-was he going to let me live? I doubted it. I had begun to think that the only bargaining chip I had was this phone, and it was proving to be a double edged sword.

The sound of metal brakes screaming under friction caught my attention and I looked up at the suspended tracks overhead. It was the commuter rail. I couldn't remember what they'd called it, but I remembered hearing they were extensive-as in far away from here, extensive. I looked across the street to a rusty metal staircase that stretched up to the platform and then I looked back, he was three people away. I saw his eyes as he drew the realization of what I was about to do.

"Don't," was all he got out on the line before I took the phone from my ear and booked it across the street.

My heavy footsteps clanked against the metal stairs and I was sure I'd shoved quite a few people but felt unapologetic about it considering my circumstances and they'd serve as obstacles for him if he pursued me. When I made it to the first landing I looked down the stairs, against my better judgement, to see him trying to make his way up-staring me down. I raced up the second set of stairs to hear the first telephonic "ding" of the doors and nearly tripped into the train over the threshold. I regained my composure as the doors slid closed behind me as another "ding" chimed. I sighed and turned to face the door only to be startled by the car-jacker's face on the other side of the door glaring through the glass. He hit the door haphazardly with his fist, likely because I was protected by the simple fact that there were people everywhere. He put the phone to his ear, still not breaking eye contact, as the train started to crawl forward. Keeping my eyes on him I hesitantly listened through the now static line.

"Ok," it was calm and his face had been calm as the train strained to gain speed, "that wasn't quite what I meant by "stay there"."

"Uhhh..."was all I got out before I ran out of intelligible things to say.

"I'll be seeing you soon." I could hear his frustration.

"I really hope not." I could hear the uneasiness in my own voice over the hum of the train and I'd wondered if he could too.

The phone made an odd noise and in taking it away from my ear, I'd realized he'd hung up. Dread started to flare up. I was unsure how he planned on finding me, but I knew that before that happened I needed to find help.

I stayed on the train for almost an hour and a half and had gotten off a few stops short of completing the loop at Keele. I had time to assess what I had; the clothes on my back, my wallet safely tucked into the back pocket of my jeans, and a phone that only dragged on issues for the day, and realized the rest of my life was back in the trunk of my rental. I didn't dare go back to it in fear he'd drawn the same conclusion, so I pressed on and put my mind to finding my family.

It was almost six, the wake and funeral were over and they'd be heading to family dinner, if they weren't there already. Calling my mom was my first thought-she kept her phone on her at all times, but when I went to dial her number on the foreign phone, I'd realized my dependency on technology was quite crippling: I didn't know it off the top of my head. That had been my phone's job. I opted for plan b; find a cab and get to my family as fast as possible. I had no way of knowing where'd they be, but I knew the last place they were; the funeral home in Parker Square.

A cab, though not cost effective, was efficient as far as time went. But the parking lot of the funeral home was empty and when I'd tried the front doors, they were locked. I parked my butt on the front steps and hoped one of my family members would show up once they'd realized I was missing.

A bit of time had gone by and I opted to stare at the phone and wonder why this was worth chasing me down over. It didn't seem it, not to me. It wasn't important enough to keep my focus off my brother's funeral I'd missed. A rush of emotion threatened to pour over the rim of my eyes and I sought to distract myself, but I couldn't pull away from knowing I'd never have a goodbye. "May as well go home." This is what I'd come for and it was over. I wasn't going to lose any sleep not seeing any of my family, though I was sure seeing two people murdered, the car chase, and the car-jacking stalker were going to keep me up at night.

Speaking of night, it was almost 8pm in October-it was dark. I half wanted to put on my jacket before I realized it was in my trunk...in an alley way. I sighed and began to walk down the street.

No destination and curiosity possessed me to thumb through his menu. It was comforting that the blue light lit up my face and when I stopped to look around, I'd realized I looked like everyone else. Perhaps I could tell myself that everything was fine and normal. A lot of what the phone had to offer were odd apps I'd never heard of, some of them were things that seemed illegal. A "Digital Trips" folder caught my eye, so I strolled down the list until I found one labeled "supersecretlolz". It felt out of place for someone who seemed to take life so seriously. I couldn't imagine the car-jacker as a lolz kinda guy. "Pretty sure these things are illegal." I tapped the icon.

My vision blurred and the blue glow of the phone engulfed my face until everything was under blue light. It felt calming if not for the thudding in my ears being progressively deafening. I turned my head to realize there was a drag in what I perceived to be real-time...I had the wherewithal to know this wasn't real-time, but nothing moved in real-time here. A light appeared over the silhouette of someone walking by and I had crossed the road to get closer. A force pushed me hard into the ground and I fell. A car started to materialize near my face in the blue landscape, but as I'd gotten up, the monochrome palette swallowed back in and a white line caught my attention. I got up on the sidewalk and everything felt stable and real for a moment before I was bombarded with what felt like speed walking. The scenery rushed by me and I put my hands in front of my face to shield myself from the force. There were words above faces all on the way to something and it stretched into a single strand...and then it all instantly stopped.

The phone vibrated in my hand and I had to do a double take when I recognized my cell number on the display. Pain immediately followed the realization and I put my hand to my head to be shocked that blood clung to my fingers when I looked. I pulled my hood up as far over my face it'd go-it was the closest to denial I could get. I couldn't make sense of it, nor could I make sense why I was on the ground near a pawn shop. The phone vibrated again.

"Hello?"

"How's your night going?" The voice was disturbingly familiar and not my mother's. I frowned.

"I don't know how to answer that." I didn't. I found his calm demeanor to be unsettling. Where was he going with this?

"Why'd you run?" This felt like a different approach and I was hesitant to go down this road.

"You stole my car with me in it."

"Ok. You stole my phone and I tried not to steal you."

"Yeah, but you still stole my car... And you killed a guy" I couldn't believe I was trying to give reason a shot, but why not?

"Three."

"What?" I couldn't figure out what "three" had to do with anything.

"We can call this thing over. We can trade phones and go our seperate ways." He sounded convincing and I wanted it to be true, but...

"You killed people." It was likely clear I'd been emotional.

"Yes, but they were all very bad people." He began to seem more human, I'd almost forgot he'd been dangerous and it made me wonder if this was his game.

"I don't know." I took a step back and bumped into something. I whipped around only to find the car-jacker with his mask down to show he'd been sporting a grin. "How are you here?"

He had put a hand on my shoulder and was quick to grab the phone out from my grasp. Once he inspected it, he looked down at me, hand still on my shoulder, holding me in place, "It's that easy." His grin faded away once he met my eyes. He reached a hand out to my face and I jerked my head out of his reach. "What happened to you?"

I doubted highly that the phone obsessed murdering car-jacker cared about what happened to me, and I didn't exactly have an answer to offer. I ignored the question and put my hand out, waiting.

He studied my face for few more seconds and then handed me my phone and shrugged, now avoiding eye contact.

"We're done? You won't come after me?" He turned away when I asked and I saw the glow of his phone cast light against him.

"Good night, Kate."

"Ok," I wasn't sure how he got my name, but I wouldn't had been surprise if it was somewhere in my rental on my stuff. "Goodnight, Aiden." As soon as I said the name, I froze and put a hand over my mouth. Was that even his name? What exactly possessed me to say that?

I turned my head around to see he'd paused, turned around, and started my way. "What did you say?"

"Oh, God. I'm an idiot." I whimpered and looked around for someone to witness my homicide.

"No, that's not what you said." He'd quickly gotten closer, a whole lot closer. The front of his jacket brushed up against my knuckles and he towered over me. I took my hand off of my mouth and stepped back. He put his hands up to show he meant no harm, but I remembered the events earlier in the day and I didn't trust it.

"Where did you get that name?" His voice must had been light before, because now it was heavy. Now he was serious and want putting on the friendly act.

"The news?"

"Nope," his eyes were fixed on me, no lie was getting through.

"I don't know. I heard one of those guys say it, I think." Was that true? Even I wasn't sure, but it was the only reasonable explanation.

"Hmm," he pulled my head back and grabbed my chin a lot softer than I thought he would, "you should get that looked at."

I assumed he meant my head, I'd almost forgotten about it. "It's fine." I'd tried to passively take my head back and pull my hood more forward, but he touched . I took a clumsy step back and watched him closely-unsure where he was going with this.

"You do what you want," his attention had began to divide between me and the phone. He had put a hand in his pocket and made his way down the sidewalk and crossed over when he'd gotten further down.

I had called my mom, at last, and managed to arrange a ride so I could get myself out of the middle of nowhere. When she had come, it was passed ten and I was out of steam by that point. Her first maternal instinct was to chastise me for missing my brother's funeral. It was a short-lived jab, but it was enough to provoke the tears that had been trying to fall all night. She followed that up with how long planned on staying.

"I'm going home tomorrow." I sat in the back of her suv and stared out the window at all the bright lights and the dark pits in-between.

She sucked her teeth, "are you bleeding?" I met her eyes in the rearview mirror.

"I fell." I wasn't sure how to answer her typical hostility.

"In my car?" 'Oh, here we go' was all I could think. "You know, your father didn't even want to come with me because of you. You never think of anyone else."

I was unsure if it was her odd way of expressing she'd missed me or if was the hit I'd taken to the head earlier, but the dull ache began to throb and take the forefront of my concentration, "Mom?"

"You know, this behavior has to stop. You're not a child anymore. You can't be so spiteful-" she ignored me.

"Mom!" My patience was non-existent. While her concern was me bleeding the upholstery, I was trying to come to terms with my day.

"What? To much?"

"I need to go to the hospital." I put my hand to my head and and tilted it back.

"Why call me at all? You could have dialed 911?" She continued her unique form of expression and changed course.

I had made it in one piece but found I preferred planes over driving with my mother. She'd become overbearing over the years and incapable of editing herself...on a plane the pressure in my ears had rendered me deaf-it was a blissful thought.

"Do you want me to come in?" She asked through the passenger-side window.

"No."

"I'm coming in. If you need to be at the hospital, it must be-"

"No, it's fine." Fine was my universal word for the exact opposite, but this wasn't common knowledge. "I'll call you later."

"I'm going to be sleeping, call me when you get home," she rolled up the window and rolled it down again, "I love you."

"I know," I did my best impression of a smile and waled into the emergency room.

Is learned that the emergency room was a complicated version of first come, first served. It was that, but they had a scale of emergencies that warranted breaking this rule. Head wounds were up there apparently because I was admitted and getting a catscan within the same hour I'd showed up.

"It's a concussion." The E.R. doctor confirmed, though he'd told me before I went in he'd been sure it was one.

"Ok, so do I take medicine? I have a flight tomorrow and I'm tired."

"Who's at home with you?" He asked, starting to look something up on a laptop. Laptop's were indeed the thing now, no more paper charts and messy handwriting, everything was electronic-it was that way in Boston, too.

"Excuse me?" The question felt out of the blue.

"You have a concussion, someone has to monitor your sleep tonight. And you can't fly, not for a few days."

"Is this for real?" This was all seeking like the very opposite of what I'd wanted.

"I take it there's no-one at home?" He left the laptop alone and attempted eye contact.

"Home's in Boston, and no, no-one to watch me."

"I can admit you for overnight monitoring, and you can pick this up in the morning with day-shift." He grabbed his computer and headed for the door.

"Wait, is this necessary or is this one of those liability precautions? I'm not too thrilled with spending the night." I touched the fabric of the hospital gown and furrowed my eyebrows.

"I have a waiting room full of emergency patients who've been here all night-" he walked out and a nurse came in to set me up. She was chatty, but exhausted. She'd been there since 7am, and was supposed to have been home hours ago. I kept my negativity to myself and sat awake in the uncomfortable bed, watching the clock. Of all things to be restricted from...Why did leaving have to be one of them?

I was forbidden to fall asleep and every five minutes, or so it seemed, someone completely new popped in. My eyes geeky heavy and my body wanted to sleep though the pain. The doctor prescribed me Tylenol, but it couldn't touch it. I had felt my phone's vibrations at the edge of the mattress. I groggily stared at the unfamiliar number on my phone, "Hello?"

"Hey." It was him, the car-jacker. Adrenaline started to course through me and was instantly on edge.

"Oh my god. You?" I sat up quickly and felt my body demand I lay back down.

"Relax. Don't get loud," he breathed in deep and I tried to do the same, but couldn't, "look at your monitor." The only monitor I could think he referred to was the one being away as my heart picked up. I looked over to it and it wasn't the same black screen filled with meandering lines, it was about 5 people walking into the E.R. through the double sliding doors.

"What is this?" I watched the feed change from one camera to another until all of them passed the front desk.

"It's trouble."

"Why is trouble here? I gave you back your phone." I whispered and crawled on the cold tiled floor between the bed and the wall.

"Do you recall when I told you to get out of the car and you decided against that?"

"Yeah..." I didn't like where this was going.

"And then do you remember when I told you not to get out of the car and you decided against that?"

"Oh god," I grabbed my head and tried to keep the room from spinning, "what am I supposed to do?" I peeked back at the screen, it was showing the corridor down the hall. The picture changed and it was the two elevators I'd taken earlier to get to this room on the fifth floor. The doors opene opened to reveal an empty elevator.

"I'm going to help get you out-"

"You're here?" I fumbled around the room for my clothes and managed to drop them on the floor.

"No, not yet. I'll guide you passed these guys," he paused his sentence and had appeared on the monitor. I pulled my jeans up and started at the monitor as he leaned in so I could see his face, "just actually follow my directions and you'll be fine."

I had the feeling it would be easier said than done. "I can't do this right now."

"Ok, then how about you stay put. Maybe they're selling girl-scout cookies." He pulled away from his monitor and turned to do something out of my field of view.

"Wait," worried he was going to leave me in this predicament, "what do I do?" I worked my shirt on under the gown and pulled the gown off and tossed it on the bed.

The monitor turned off and I could hear a faint voice from my phone. I put it up to my ear, "We'll talk like this," he paused and I had been able to hear the distinctive sound of a car door close on his side, "wait by the door and get ready to go left down the hall."

I stood up against the wall and watched the hall through the crack in the door, waiting for the word to go.


	3. A Trip Down the Elevator

A long period of silence had given me time to play scenarios through my mind. They all ended with me dead, or close to it.

"Get ready to move," he broke the silence and an engine of a car revved on his side, "now."

I slowly swung the large door open and its creaking echoed in the hall. I had held my breath and froze.

"Are you kidding me?" It sounded like he felt my life-expectancy was on the decline.

"I can't contr-"

"Move it, your window is closing," he spoke over me, urgency evident. I slid out the door, crouching down and went left in the hall by an unattended nurse's station.

"What now?" I whispered.

"Stay put." As he'd said it, the sound of footsteps pattering across the linoleum went by the opposite side of the station. I'd put my hands over my face to try and muffle my breathing, "It's just the nurse, relax."

"She'll be checking on me shortly," I retorted his "relax."

"I've got it," he huffed, "you need to go around the desk and stay left."

I crawled around the desk, stood up, and checked the right end of the hall; the nurse wasn't there. Three of the call-lights illuminated the dark corridor and then two more lit up right before I turned left. I tip-toed across the cold floor down the hall and stopped short of the corner. "Do I go?"

"Hold on," he interrupted as the elevator chimed and my ears pricked up, "you need to hide. Quick."

"What is it?" I backed down the hall and started turning doorknobs, but with no luck. "Everything's locked, what's going on?" It was then that I heard the chime again and the elevator's mechanical doors open, followed by several footsteps.

A door I rushed by clicked and I paused mid-stride and almost crashed onto my face, "Dry storage. Move it," he tried to even out his tone.

I opened the door and did my best to close it quietly. I put my back against the door and slid down. "Who the hell is that?"

"Fixers."

"Oh," like maintence or something, "I thought it was the 'trouble'." I felt relieved.

"At what point do you consider yourself in trouble?" He sounded amused and I couldn't figure out why.

"I guess when someone's trying to kill me," I felt a bit more relieved his tone shifted.

"Consider yourself in trouble."

"What? Why?" Were they murderous janitors?

"Fixers, you haven't heard of them?" Amusement still clung to his words, he felt comfortable like this.

"Uh, they're not maintenance people, are they?"

"I guess you could say that..." he sounded ominous as someone on the otherside of the door tried the handle and moved on. "Fixers, they 'fix' things."

"Well, I'm not broken."

"Of course you are, you're in the hospital...not the Morgue."

"Oh god," I listened through the door and tried to guess how many there were, "what am I supposed to do?"

"Get ready to open the door and run for the elevator." I heard the engine on his side shut off, the background void of the low rumble.

"I can't, they're right there."

"If you want to live through this, you will," I heard a car door shut on his side, "now go!"

I hesitated grabbing the knob, I could hear them not far from the door. This guy had no reason to help me. Maybe he was one of these guys-a fixer. Maybe he wanted me dead. I pushed it aside and pulled the door open.

My first mistake was that I paused in the middle if the hall when I saw three men with guns drawn turn to face me and aim. My second mistake was sliding on the floor with my hospital-issued socks and failing to regain traction for what felt like an eternity. My third mistake was that I got shot in the back and froze in shock.

I could hear the car-jacker yell repeatedly over the phone "fucking move," and I tried to. Pain radiated through my body and the fixers closed in.

Adrenaline finally coursed through me and gave me a much-needed shove. I got up, unable to feel the pain for a moment and ran for the elevator. As I neared, the doors sprang open and I hit the wall to stop myself. I turned to face the fixers and as if they had perfected synchronized assassinations, they drew at the same time and walked in the same pace.

"Take cover," I could faintly hear. I hid behind the wall with the fire emergency panel and the doors casually dinged shut. The sound of gun fire pelted the doors until the elevator descended one full level down.

I pressed my back against the back of the elevator and touched the left side of my chest and pulled my hand away to see blood. I was unsure if it was from the bullet to the back or if I'd been shot more than once, but pain started to rush in and I heard a cry escape my mouth.

"Hey," I could hear my phone. I picked it up, looking at the battery before I put it to my face, 2%. "Are you hit?" I cried harder. "Answer me, are you hit?"

I looked up at the camera over head, I could hear its mechanical workings turning it left and right quickly, "did you see?"

"You're directly under the camera, I can't see." he sounded somewhere between calm and maybe almost worried.

"I'm fine." There was that word again.

"Ok," he hesitated, "they'll be expecting you in the lobby, so I'm taking you to the basement."

If there was anything I hadn't been oblivious to, it was what was in the basement of hospitals-the morgue. Lots of dead people. I didn't want to go there. I felt like I'd be going there to die. "No!" I cried out into the phone as it simultaneously played the "shutting down" tune. My phone had died. I cried harder and banged the elevator doors as it slipped from the lobby down towards the basement.

The elevator stopped and the camera above had ceased turning frequently. The doors dinged, opened, and then began to close. I reached my foot out in-between the doors to keep the elevator there. I tried powering on my phone again, but it immediately shut off once it competed going through the start up screen.

I had wanted to get up, to start looking for a way out of this mess, but my body was stiff. I opted to crawl and even calling it a crawl was debatable. I spotted a large metal sink down the hall: it was tall and deep enough for me to hide under, all I had to do was make it over there.

I'd made it over in record wounded time. The elevator was called up and I watched from the end of the hall as the light stopped on the first floor and then the elevator began its climb down. I had hoped that with the basement being key-access only it'd have taken them longer to figure out a way down.

The doors opened and two men stepped out. I watched as they looked at the ground and followed an imaginary line right to me. It was drops and smears of blood, there'd been almost no point in hiding. One tapped the other on the shoulder and pointed me out, locking eyes.

Surprisingly I'd felt calm. I had been so worried through this thing that knowing how it'd end felt relaxing. I enjoyed the predictability. That was until aLl of the lights a wound down and the emergency lights struggled to kick on.

I couldn't see anything-it was pitch black, but I felt a hand cover my mouth and I was ripped out from my hiding place by my arm. I spilt over, trying to smack or hit whoever it was, but to no avail. I was pulled up but an arm and someone's arm went under my own and around my back. The weight of my leaning and being supported by my arm caused me to cry out from stretching my back. The wounds didn't feel like spots that'd hurt-it was everywhere. Gun shots rang out and the pace picked up. I couldn't see where I was going-or who this was. Though, I was pretty sure they'd get shot too.

A hard metal sound rang out and I'd realized that my saviour had kicked a door open. My knees buckled at the sight of stairs, "Stand." I'd recognized the demanding voice.

"You?"

"Me." He started for the stairs and practically dragged me down them. A car, parked on the sidewalk, beeped and he opened the front door and rolled me in. The door slammed shut and for a moment everything was quiet until he'd gotten in on the driver's side. The car came to life with a turn of the key and I watched the heads of streetlights pass by from down on the seat. The car jerked and my head smacked the door, "How do you have a license?"

He ignored my question, "So, what part of bleeding all over the floor means you're not hit?"

"Huh?" My mind started to slip as the warm glow of the streetlights faded and the night dotted the sky.

"Hey, stay awake."

"I am. I can't sleep, it hurts." No sooner did I say it, did I realize I was doing just that.

"Hey?" He called, and I listened while I watched things up ahead. He'd pushed into my back and the sharpness of the pain shot through me-I was instantly nauseous.

I began to heave. "Fuck."

"Stay awake." He turned the car and put it in park and got out. My door opened shortly after, followed by my being dragged out on my back, "I'm not carrying you, get up." It was the last bit of frustration I'd heard before I slipped off and closed my eyes


	4. A Trip From the Bathroom

May have some spelling errors, I can't ever see them until after I post-Murphy's Law. I tried to write a bit of action in this, let me know if it was successful or if it needs some thing...

I didn't need a clock or nearby window to know I'd woken up somewhere between two or three in the morning. My mind readily woke itself, but my body was hesitant to follow and it had tried to persuade the whole of me to sleep again. Then I'd remembered the elevator ride down to the morgue. My eyes had shot open and I raced to sit up, but the motion came with pain-more than what had felt warranted. I collapsed back down and regained a semblance of composure.

I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark and for the waves of pain to release their hold. The first thing I saw were the frayed ends of a blanket resting over half of my face. The longer I stared passed them, the further I could see-I'd realized a few inches from my face, on an end table, was a box of pizza with grease wicked up its sides. I was pretty sure it was responsible for the stale smell threatening to turn my stomach. I groaned and flopped the blanket off my face and turned my head.

There were the makings of a window with the curtains closed and beneath it a couch, only a few feet away. It was too dark to see what else was over there. I turned my head back towards the pizza box again and noted a table with several computer monitors generating lines to small to read. Their faint glow touched the edges of every surface and I could then see I was on a bed. I looked at the end of the bed, noticing a secondary light source-another monitor and what looked like stacked towers, "Wow, someone's been hitting World of Warcraft hard."

A muffled groan could be heard from my left, in the vicinity of the couch-perhaps my kind host was around? I mentally shushed myself and decided another round of escape was in-order; the last time I checked, the car-jacker wasn't only trouble himself, but had some in tow. I didn't need that. I needed to get home-to the safety of my 9 to 5 job and rental payments.

I held my breath, anticipating the pain, and began my awkward assent into the sitting-up position. It was a fairly quick process, unlike getting up on my feet- though once I'd gotten to the point of standing, I inwardly agreed sitting wasn't an option.

Murphy's law came into play as soon as I took my first step. The floor creaked and instantly I recalled the door from the hospital. I paused, rather comically I was sure, but as the events from the hospital became less of a haze, it lost its humor. I couldn't see anyone and noone made themselves known, but my eyes kept darting back to the darkened couch. The dim glow of electronics brushed a reflection on a door knob and I crepted my way across the room with an arm extended out. On my short journey I passed the table in the middle of the room and a small kitchenette to my left that held stacks of pizza boxes. I'd drawn a conclusion that whoever lived here was likely going to be alone-for life. It was a mix between a nerdy teenager and bachelor's cave and I could tell this with the lights off.

My hand finally touched the metal knob and on a very quiet count to three I opened it quickly, went through and slammed it shut. I rushed forward only to trip on something almost knee high and fell in the dark. The ground was slimy and wet. I knew this feeling... smell... it was a shower. I sucked in a breath in disgust, though expanding my lungs only served as a reminder there'd been an extra hole my chest.

A knock on the door followed the lights flickering on. I was in an awful green-tiled bathroom, on the floor of a sludgey, brown bottomed tub. Wrong door.

"Hey, everything ok in there?" It was the car-jacker; despite the sleepiness in his voice, I could tell.

I stared at the closed door, wide eyed, unsure how to respond, "It's fine!"

"What are you doing?"

"Using the bathroom?" I tried to sound offended, maybe he'd leave me alone.

"Do you normally make this much noise?"

His question inspired a looked if disgust-did he just ask that? "I fell." Maybe honesty would get him away.

"Do you need help?" I heard the knob move. He wasn't going to open it, not yet, but his hand must have rested on it.

"No!"

"Are you trying to climb out the window?" He was casual about it.

"No!" But that wasn't a bad idea. I pulled myself up, winced and then squinted my eyes as I rose onto my feet. I rested my palms on the underside of the window by the toilet and pushed it up. I was grateful there was no screen, but it was the second floor-that was a problem.

"Did you just open the window after telling me you weren't escaping from it?" He feigned his feelings hurt. It was insulting.

Maybe the fall wouldn't kill me-but could I continue my evasion with two broken legs? "JustI go away. I'm in the bathroom!"

The door popped open and he strode in and folded his arms at the sight of me scrambling to close the window. I put an arm out, "Look, I don't want any trouble-"

He smirked and fiddled with the thumb-holes on his sweater, "Oh? You ignored every direction. You went through my phone. Where is the part that you don't want trouble?" His face was placid, but his voice said it all: he was pissed.

I pressed my back into the wall and now had both hands out, trying to keep him away as, "What do you mean 'went through your phone'?" I thought about what he could possibly be referring to, "You mean super secret lolz?" That stupid thing?

"That would be the one." He put a hand out onto my shoulder and his grip tightened, "It's corrupted, it's one use, and you used it." He started to move me forward.

"Look," I unsuccessfully tried to shrug out of his grasp, "I'll get you a new one. Those things are just as common as pot-I can find-"

"Not this one. This is what your friends from the Loop were after."

"Loop?"

"The alley where you left your car." He'd guided me out of the bathroom, turned off the light and let me go into the room.

I thought about arguing his claim that I'd left my car, but the idea that of all the things I looked at on his phone-it was the one he was going to be killed over, overwhelmed my train of thought. "Why would you have it there casually with all your apps?" It was a good question.

He sighed, "I couldn't break the encryption from my phone, so I waited for it to be done at the transfer. The file is, was, a digital trip, so that's where it's stored."

"Seems kinda careless." I say on the edge of the bed, my eyes once again adjusting to the dark. Though as soon as I said those words, I remembered I was talking to a killer, not a friend out even an acquaintance. He had this way of speaking familiarly. It was a good technique. I'd have to try it sometime.

"I don't often part with my phone. You could have done some serious damage with it," He plopped down beside me, "if you haven't already."

"There was nothing worth a car chase on it," I stared at the three monitors, "it's just blue, everything."

"I don't think so."

"I'm serious. Everything was blue and slow and I ended up someplace weird, but there's nothing worth-" I pointed to the epicenter of hurt in my chest, "what's it supposed to be?"

"Hmm," he laid back, "all the dirt that Defalt had on DedSec, it's affiliates, pet projects."

"Uh?"

"DedSec is a group of hacktivists, Defalt, JB Marcowicz, was turned down by DedSec, too flashy."

"So, revenge?" I went to lay back but found passed a certain point I wouldn't be able to control the descent.

"More like blackmail. Except he's dead."

"So, why do you want it?"

He sat up, "Have you considered that asking all of these questions will only get you into more trouble?" He stood up and went to the table with the monitors and flopped a switch. A light hit the wall and a collage of paranoia appeared.

I struggled to stand up for a few moments and then walked over near the table. There were pictures, words, articles. A young woman's face appeared a few times, but over one picture it read "dead". "What is all of this?"

"Questions," he walked up to the wall the projector shone upon "and leads."

It was a picture in the right that caught my eye. I knew him. Like deja vu or something. "Jordi?" It was an Asian man in a white suit. I could hear his voice in my memory, but nothing distinct was being said.

He turned to face me, an amused look of disbelief, "You know him?" He pointed to the picture.

"Yeah," even I was shocked. The more looked at him and the more I could focus on the sound of his sarcasm, the more I could remember.

"Where did you meet?" It sounded like a challenge.

"I don't think we have," it was confusing to say the least. He shut off the projector and flipped on the eyes stung.

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but it's over." He walked to a door on the other side of a built-in partition and opened it. The sound of conversations filtered through and I knew it was outside.

"I can go?" I took a step to the door and hesitated. This was the first time I'd seen the car-jacker in the light. No hat. No scarf. He had a bit of scruff growing where a beard would soon followif he let it go too long, and his eyes were a typical blue-they were angry.

"Yeah. What did you think?"

"You were going to kill me." I was at the door at this point, walking out of it backwards, still looking at him. I had that odd sense of familiarity with him, then again we'd seen a lot of each other. But it was more than that. I held onto looking at him for a few moments longer and I recalled him and Nicky hugging each other goodbye and Jackson. No, Jacks.

I must have stared too long or made a face because his expression changed dramatically and I couldn't tell what it meant, "I might if you keep staring like that." He broke a small grin.

"Right," I slowly nodded, "I'm going to go now." I pointed out the door.

The door closed quietly behind me and I smiled at my new-found freedom. I walked down some metal stairs and wandered away from the brick motel and its sign "newly renovated." I felt relaxed, even. Now I knew he wasn't coming for me-he let me leave. I touched my back pocket and felt my wallet still there. "Good, now I can get out of here, for real."

I managed to flag down a taxi and get myself to the airport. I'd only been about a half hour away, even with the steady stream of traffic. The driver was a man of few words-I was thinking English want his first language and he somehow knew it was my only one. We communicated with awkwardly big smiles; to show we were being honorable, and nods; to say yes.

I went in through the rotating door and made my way up an escalator and to the front desk. I passed a series of big screens all displaying a part of a bigger picture and eyed the United Aeroway kiosk. Home was so close-just a few more hours I kept telling myself.

I stepped up to the kiosk and waited for someone to appear, it was likely they were out back this time of night... morning...whenever. My jaw dropped when of all the people to come strolling out from behind the singing door, it was Southern Belle Barbie.

First she smiled, and then she made the "recognition" face. It mirrored the face I'd imagined I'd made when I had felt she was a bitch-it must have left an impression. "Oh you," she paused and then recovered, "dear."

"Uh, yeah... me." Now I offered her my best fake smile without reservation. I was likely never going to see her again, why care now?

"What flight are you looking to board?" She resorted to being professional and it made me frown a bit.

"Boston, as soon as possible."

"There's a 7:15, non-stop, or a 6:30, but with two lay-overs."

"What's the price difference?" I rested my elbows on the counter top.

"They're the same." Get accent was heavy on the "s".

"So, obviously the one without the lay-overs." Was it true what they'd said about blondes?

"Well my momma always told me to never assume," oh god, "like you think if there was a line, you'd go to end, not the beginning..." she was still being a bitch.

"The non lay-over." Anger laced on every syllable.

"What a great choice." She took my card and license, printed my ticket, handed to me and then, "Do you have any bags you wanna check in?"

I looked at the empty space in both sides of me, "nope."

"Travel light, dontcha?"

"Somehow I feel like I'm taking more baggage back than I'd brought," and with that, I'd left her puzzled and went through the check, point.

I'd sat at the quiet airport for about two hours when the panels on the walls flashed a WKZ report about a murder in "the Loop." My head shot up as that had been a familiar phrase.

" This morning WKZ news is the first to bring you the startling report on a shooting in the Loop that took place almost two days ago. "

I froze when I saw Dump Truck wedged in an alley with holes in him.

" Police are reporting the crime happened somewhere in the early hours of Saturday but the investigation had been kept from the public as the shooter was out if CTos' view "

I stood abruptly when I saw video if me leaving the alley, merging in with the crowd, and then looking backwards. Hell, even I thought I had looked guilty.

" Police have identified the shooter as 28 year old SydneyKate Tristatt originally from Boston. She's been on the run but is believed to be hiding in Chicago..."

I looked away from the screens, passed the other side of the check-point to see Southern Belle Barbie on the other side, frantically pointing me out to two officers she was talking to. I looked up at the screens, one in the corner changed to "you better run." I stood, was it talking about me? Then one by one, each screen blacked out and read "run!"

I searched around for a way out and looked back at the police officers passing through the check point, clearly staring me down. I took a few steps away and continued searching until a queue board turned from its bright blue to black "go left, gate 25."

I looked back at the police officer, cautiously gaining ground, "Hold it right there." He'd put an arm out, as if he'd use the force to hold me in place. I booked it, running left as best I could and skimming the signs for gate 25. When I'd spotted it, I ran past the desk, down the tarmac and paused at the gaping opening. It was about an 8 foot drop, maybe more. I was a poor judge of distance. I could hear the echo of my pursuers' feet slam against the tarmac floor.

I jumped.


	5. A Trip Through the Airport

It was quite far... from a graceful landing. Initially I landed feet first and a sharp sensation traveled up my shins right before I spilt over onto my hands. I'd considered crying about it, when I looked at my scraped palms and watch the blood push out from under the embedded debri, but I had to focus on how I'd outrun the police. It was already a hard task because of the wound in my back and chest, and though it looked like it had been patched-no bandage was going to protect it from the impact of running.  
I never imagined myself as a criminal on the run. I'd always said I'd wanted to be a veterinarian or a zoologist in middle school. I imagined a little car-jacker in middle school bringing a gun to show and tell-the criminal thing was his gig, not mine. I'd been straight-laced and sure of myself my whole life, but I was now almost positive that running from the cops was a crime, and thusly made me a criminal. This was a mistake. A misunderstanding. Maybe I could explain that the T.V.'s told me to do it?

"She's on the ground!" A man called, up from the tarmac. It startled me and I took some steps back under the mouth of the tarmac to avoid detection. I felt they'd maybe not understand the "T.V.s talking to me" approach, so I ran, again. As I went by another tarmac, I'd realized why gate 25 was specifically chosen-it must had been for smaller planes. The planes that were docked and even the unoccupied tarmacs were considerably higher. Had it been blind luck?  
"It's to early in the morning for this," I whined to myself.  
A commercial for Quickies Coffee deafeningly blared over the P.A. and I jumped out of my skin before sprinting forward from being startled.  
I ran passed a fire door that popped open and had begun to swing outward. I paused mid-stride and turned toward it. No, not blind luck; I recalled the door unlocking itself in the hospital. Was it the car-jacker? What had I called him before? Aiden? Was it him with the T.V.'s? This was his mess.  
Sirens blared out in the distance and steered me out of memory lane. Were they coming for me? All of this commotion? I didn't kill anyone. "Fucking Aiden." I said under my breath as I entered the doorway and glared at a camera. I'd been sure that's how he knew what door to open. I wasn't sure how he did it, any of it. Perhaps it'd be best to not know.  
I closed the heavy door and put my back against it. This was feeling all sorts of familiar. "What now?" I asked to the camera. I walked out in the hall, still hearing sirens populate the air, and covered my ears to delay anxiety. I looked around until the lights had audibly wound down. "Can't see."  
A ceiling light lit up down the hall and I stared at it in the dark, waiting for it to reveal something. Maybe the police would round the corner? Perhaps the car-jacker, Aiden, maybe he'd stroll in. But no one came. The light began to flash faster and faster. I just watched, puzzled, until it shut off completely. "Uh. Back to I can't see."

The light came on directly overhead and I shielded my face as I looked up. The next light lit up and the light over head shut off. I stepped under the light and then it shut off, though again the next one lit. "Oh." He wanted me to follow them. I felt stupid.  
The light overhead died and this time the light all the way at the end of the hall lit up. I sighed, even the lights were impatient.  
The charade continued until I came upon another fire door. It popped open and on the other side was the airport parking lot. In the middle of the lot was the train, boldly labeled "the L." Without needing a hint, I headed towards the trains, neglecting to consider the police cars only few yards away. "Stop right there!" The voice was firm. Maybe if I stopped running now I could stop wracking up charges.  
I put my hands over my head and turned to face the officer. Officers. He had quite a few with him, guns drawn. Some had tasers out. "I surrender."  
The cop that had ordered me to stop holstered his gun and walked towards me, working the cuffs of his belt. My heart had crawled in my throat and pounded loudly in my ears. I couldn't believe I was in trouble. I shouldn't had run. He grabbed my arm and slapped a cuff on it. "Ow," I complained. He grabbed my other wrist and pulled it, then yelled and almost dropped down.  
I turned to face him and the rest of them, but they all followed suit; grabbing at their ears and doubling over. I cocked an eye brow and yelled over them, "Do I just do this last cuff myself?"  
The ground began to shake and I looked back as a train approached. The timing was amazing. Perfect. "No!" I scolded myself. I wasn't running to the train.  
"You fucking bitch," an officer cried out, getting onto his feet only to yell again and go back down.  
"Hey, this isn't me." It seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. "Fuck." I turned and ran for the train and watched my breath race from my mouth into the cold air in-time with every stride. I held a hand out, anticipating grabbing the railing on the platform and did so. I swung myself around the turn, ran around the gate and into a couple that had been trying to disembark. They gave me an annoyed look but left before "sorry" could come out. I stood by the open door and watched as the police caught up and stepped onto the platform. "Shit." I put my hands up and looked at the cuffs dangling from my left hand. I sighed. I was pretty sure I'd be going to jail at this point. Three of them approached the door, guns drawn, "Don't fucking move." Another cop mumbled into a radio velcroed to his shoulder, eyes never leaving me, "We got her, south bound train. Have them shut it down." And then the door snapped shut. The officers looked confused, I'm sure I had too. The train rumbled, and shook, as if conflicted, and took off rather suddenly. The sudden motion from a dead stop sent me sideways and off-balance. I squinted my eyes, bracing for the ground-but I didn't fall. Instead, a pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and someone stepped into my space to steady me. I turned red. I couldn't see it, but I felt th heat creep up into my face. I turned to say sorry, and whoever it was let go. "Sorry," I put a hand on the back of my head, "uh, thank you."  
It was a guy, probably around my age, in a black zip-up hoodie and standard jeans and shoes. "Getting into trouble?" He sounded amused. It caught me off-guard, "I think so. Yeah... shit." I plopped down on a seat, and leaned my head against a pole. "You're going to be alright." He placed a hand on my head and knelt down. "You're pretty cute, you know that?" He got up before I could react and made his way to the other side of the cart. Heat continued to rush up into my face. I looked over at him, his back against a pole, still looking in my direction. He gave a small wave and I averted my eyes to the ground. I wasn't prepared for this.

The train came to a screetching halt-not at a station, and the automated attendant announced the train was having difficulty. The doors opened and dinged and I hopped out. What to do? I casually walked across the tracks towards a green space with a fountain in its center and turned to watched the train take off. Where was the wisdom of taking me here? I parked myself on the closest bench and waited for the next move to make itself apparent.

It came in the form of a hand under my arm pulling me up. I turned quick, half expecting the cops, but jumping up when I realized it was the car-jacker. "How did you-" I was cut off by the harshness in which he pulled me off the bench and into him. "Hey!"  
"Be quiet and walk." He kept his hands on my shoulders and drew me further into him until my back was touching his chest.  
"Wait," I tried to turn but he rushed me forward, "just stop!" I turned into him, meaning to be obstinate, but it came off intimate.  
"You're going to be found out if you keep talking and don't move."

"The train stopped here, not at the station, they won't look-" he put a hand over my mouth and opted for towing me backwards by my face.  
"CTos can hear you. It'll recognize your voice, you're face."  
I tried mumbling something unpleasant but it was terribly muffled under his hand. I went along with him across the park and to a black car parked on the side of the road. He opened to door and I got in after receiving the look of "if you try to run I will shoot you" and waited quietly.

I escaped the police! It's this idiot's fault they are after me, but I don't that badly. I looked over with pride on my expression, but it died when I met his eyes and he was less then thrilled.

He grabbed the neck of my shirt and shoved me back into the door, "who the fuck are you and who are you working or?"  
I out my hands up, shocked, "what?"

"Don't fuck with me!"

"Whoa, I'm not!" Maybe getting in the car was a bad idea.

"You have CTos access! Who are you working for?" He slammed his other hand into the dash and I jumped, "who hired you?"

"Hired me?"

"You accessed a file on my phone," he put a thumb over the wound on my chest, "the club? Viceroys? DedSec?"

As soon as he said DedSec I recalled a photo on his little light-up-collage. The woman who's photo said "dead". She was lying in a puddle on the grass and the car-jacker was walking away. I put a hand on my head, not wanting to remember anymore, "No!"

He pressed a thumb into the track of where the bullet had exited and I screamed, writhing uncontrollably. "No isn't acceptable," he let go, "I thought you were just determined clueless idiot. Obviously not."

"You took my car," I put pressure on the wound to try and ease the pain, "I didn't seek you out."

He paused and leaned back against his door and folded his hands over his chest, "how did you gain access to CTos?" He asked it in an overly nice way. He switched modes.

"I didn't." I may not have been exactly sure what he'd been referring to about having access, but I knew CTos: couldn't escape the commercials back at home, "I don't understand why you think-"

"The airport, the train-"

"You helped me."

"I what?" He laughed and began to sit up.

"You helped me escape," I was starting to worry that none of this was ringing a bell, "'you better run'."

"I didn't know you were in trouble until I saw you on the news."

"I didn't know I was in trouble until I saw myself on the news." I had a feeling I wouldn't have to worry about Chinese water torture being next, I could tell he believed me.

"Why go through all the trouble of saving you," he started the car and grew quiet, "unless it was to keep you accessible."

"Accessible?" I pulled my seatbelt on, remembering his driving.

"It's harder to get to you in prison." He seemed a lot calmer, relieved by his own logic.

"Why couldn't someone have saved me because I am innocent?"

"Because that's my M.O. and I didn't save you."

We headed away from the park, this time he didn't drive like a Fast and the Furious extra and I was almost grateful. He put the phone to his ear, "Jordi, I know you're back, pick up your damn phone." He was quiet for a moment and then I heard a voice on the other side, inaudible however.  
"Yeah, business. Speaking of which, I have something for you." Another not of silence on the car-jacker's part, "If that was the case, I would have done it a month ago when you snaked your way back." He glanced at me and smirked, taking the phone from his face, "it's hard to explain."  
"You'll love it. Owl motel. 15 minutes." He pulled into the parking lot of the Owl Motel and got out of the car. I sat in car a while longer and watched him pace and talk. He ended the conversation and l looked at me through the windshield, determination in his expression. He came around and opened the door, "Out."  
"Have you been informed you're unnecessarily rude?" I scootched closer to the center-console.  
"Out, please." Sarcasm. What was I not surprised? He grabbed me by my arm and the trip upstairs was a painfully poor attempt to ignore gravity.  
We got to his door and he turned unlocked it. At this point, I couldn't figure out his game plan. If he didn't save me, who had? He was annoyed with it. With me. He did I'd taken something, but I hadn't. Fear started to creep in, he said someone was trying to keep me accessible, was he too? I didn't want to find out. Maybe jail was safer. "Help!" I began to yell until the holy union of his palm and my mouth were reunited. He pulled me inside and gave me a light push onto the bed. I stood up quickly and watched him close the door and whip around. "That was a stupid move," He closed the gap between us and I backed into the wall, "are you trying to get caught?"

"Caught? You framed me for murder!"  
"What?" He laughed And pot a hand on the wall and leaned in, "if someone's trying to put you in jail, then it's Blume who's trying to get to you." He put his other hand on the wall divvy his weight, "but if someone else is hacking CTos to keep you out," he sighed, "what was on it?" "On it?"

"The program. The digital trip. And don't say everything was blue."

"Are you going to kill me?" I struggled to break eye contact, but it wasn't happening.

"Do I need to?" How was I supposed to know? What's a good reason to kill me? I heard the metallic clink of the cuff. I didn't look down, but I had an idea-a good reason not to kill me is if I'm attached to you. I brought my left hand up followed by the right. I clasped the cuff around his wrist and watched as he quietly stared at it.

"Is that your answer?" He looked at me.

"Huh?"

"You think I won't kill you if you're cuffed to me?" He grabbed my left wrist with his right and tossed me on the bed, "you're trying my patience."

A knock on the door broke the staring contest.

"Who is it?"

"It's the pizza guy." There was enough sarcasm to penetrate the door.

The car-jacker looked up, "Jordi," he smirked, "this should be fun to explain." He pulled me up and opened the door with his left hand, forcing me behind the door. A man stepped through and the door closed.

Long time no see, Aiden." He smiled and then froze, "Uh, you got a cling-on problem, captain?" He pointed at me as he raised his hand to emphasize the cuffs. "Who is she?"

"She's your new contract."

"She's right there, what do you need me for? Kill her." Jordi grabbed the chain and gave it a tug.

Aiden jerked his hand away, "I don't want her dead. Blume's after her."

"Oh, no no no. Maurice was excruciating pathetic. I'm not good with pets. They always die."

"Room, food, water. She stays inside, Out of sight. It's not hard."

"I've got that part down. It's the crying and begging to be let go. You pop her, all of your problems will be solved." He was very matter of fact about it and I worried this was making sense.

"All of your problems. If you can't handle it, I'll just-"

Jordi sighed, "Fine, fine. I'll do it." He looked around at the room and then at me, "I do work for money."

"Yes, you do." There was a dig in Aiden's words. I didn't know the history of these two, but it sounded like there was an issue.

"So what am I doing?" Maybe I'd take my own welfare into my hands.

"You've done enough." Aiden barely regarded what I had to say.

"I'm not hanging out with a fixer," I looked at him and his smug face, "no offense."

"None taken, but you're not paying me, so we'll be hanging out." He made the quotation marks with his fingers.

I looked at Aiden, "why? Can't I just go?"

"I've tried getting you to go on several occasions, I wanted you to go." He put a hand on my head, "You can't keep out of trouble."

"Me?" I shrugged out from under his hand, "you couldn't keep yourself out of trouble and you're family had to leave because of it!" As soon as I said I wish I hadn't cuffed myself to him.

His eyes narrowed and he looked to Jordi, "You think I should just shoot her and call it a day?"

"Family stuff, probably not the best way to go." Jordi tried to break the tension.

"I'm leaving!" I threw my uncuffed hand up and walked towards the door.

"No, you're not." Aiden blocked the door with himself and lifted his cuffed arm. "It's not permanent, it's just until I get this sorted."

"Shooting me is pretty god-damned permanent." I put my free hand on the knob, ignoring his blockade.

"I'm not going to shoot you." He eased me backwards and tried to guide me into the room.

I dug my heels in, "I'm calling bullshit."

"Look," he stopped pushing me, "it may be partially my fault that you're," he avoided eye contact for a moment, "in this." He put his hand on my head- his thumb by my temple and sighed and then he froze. "Hey," he put his hand on the back of my neck, "are you-" He tipped my head back and placed the back of his hand across my forehead. I swatted him away.

"What's your problem?" I was between cranky and confused.

"Take your shirt off," he grabbed the bottom of my shirt and I raced to keep it down.

"Hey, I'm just gonna," Jordi pointed to the door.

"Stay put," he instructed Jordi, "you, you may septic."

"Hey, I don't play nurse." Jordi still heading for the door.

"I can't watch her, not with what's going on." He wrestled my shirt off and I raced to cover myself with my hands and his right arm went unwillingly. Grabbing my left hand in his, he put it by my side. He ran his fingers on the edges of a square bandage. It was soaked in sweat and blood. It wasn't bleeding now, but it must had been. Probably my new-found athletic lifestyle.

"Gross." I looked up and tried to cover myself again.

"Relax." He tried to peel the adhesive tape

"You took my shirt off, after I said no." I whacked his hand away.

"It's nothing I haven't seen already," he pulled the bandage off and started to peel back the gauze and I just blankly stared, "Who do you think patched you up the first time?"

I wiggled my left hand and raised it, "I don't want to be attached to you anymore."

Aiden smirked, "I can get them off," he made a face when he peeled back the last gauze pad, "this is..."

"Not my problem," Jordi opened the door, "This is going to involve crying and coddling, I don't do those. I'll watch your pet, when it's not dying, otherwise I can't make guarantees."

Aiden gave a careless wave and Jordi left without so much as a look back. I watched Aiden's features change from mildly annoyed to super focused. What was that all about, "Coddling?"

"Yeah, he's not particularly cuddly." He nodded toward the closed door.

I watched his face and he looked up at me the moment he poked something and it hurt, "hey."

"Yeah, so this is infected." His eyes narrowed and he grabbed his phone with his free hand.

"What are you doing?"

"You're going to need to trust me," he put the phone down, "and stop doing stupid things." He lifted his cuffed wrist-exhibit A.

"I figured you wouldn't kill me if-"

"I'd saw your arm off...or break your fingers." He was very matter if fact and if it weren't for the reassuring smile, I'd have thought he'd been planning that. "Luckily cop cuffs are standard and I can pick it." 


End file.
